


(ONE-SHOT) If the Shower Walls Could Read Minds

by Omnibard



Series: Cathedral of You [4]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Accordo Trip, Angst, Can't even rub one out, Casual Sex, Cor is moody when horny, Cor works too much, Masturbation in Shower, Not Really a One-Shot, Other, Regis and Retinue, Snippet, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-23 23:19:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13798452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omnibard/pseuds/Omnibard
Summary: Rated M for mature for language and sexual references.





	(ONE-SHOT) If the Shower Walls Could Read Minds

A shower.

Shrugging out of the Crownsguard blazer and folding it on the back of the couch, Cor told himself it was all he needed.  A shower.  It’d deal with the hot itching under all of his skin that’d had him wound up and tense all day.  Irritable.  People had noticed.  Nobody really had the gall to try and trifle with him on any given day, but  _ today _ they’d given him an even wider berth.  He didn’t think it had shown on his face--mastering his expression and body language had been chiefest of lessons beaten into him by everything he’d endured,  _ starting _ with military training-- but they seemed to sense it anyway.  Like spiracorn scenting the pack of sabertusk slinking through the brush.

A hot shower would relax all the clenched muscles in his back and neck, tension that he could feel creeping up his jaw toward his temples, threatening the headache again.  It’d relax him so he could  _ sleep _ like he really hadn’t been able to the last couple nights.  It’d release the muscles in his hips…

He stopped at the threshold of the bathroom, staring at the simple tub-and-shower across from him.  Like he’d done that day… more than a year ago?  Because it wasn’t  _ his _ hips he was suddenly thinking about…

He’d seen her naked before.  He’d  _ undressed  _ her himself before, with all the professional detachment he hardly had to think about after all these years.  Back when she’d had night-terrors almost every damn night, he’d had to do a shit-ton of care-giving, and that had meant handling her nubile, teenage body sometimes.  And he’d done it.  And it’d been  _ fine. _  Part of the  _ job. _

But  _ that day _ she’d been handling  _ herself _ in the only fucking shower in his apartment and Cor Leonis finally realized he had an  _ actual woman _ in his place.  A woman with healthy sexual desire.

He remembered being angry about it-- angry at himself for his carelessness, angry at her for forcing him to face this realization.  He hadn’t thought about it in the time  _ since. _  He’d dealt with it, and that had been all.

It  _ should _ have been all.  Why was he thinking about it  _ now? _

Why did it make him  _ hesitate _ at the threshold like he was suddenly  _ embarrassed _ to be naked in his own damn shower where he’d inadvertently caught her masturbating,  _ more than a year later? _

It didn’t make sense, so he shelved it and forced himself inside, closing the door firmly behind him.  Ariel would be home soon and the last thing he wanted or  _ needed _ right now was for her to be  _ hearing _ what was going on in his head.  He told himself the door would help.

He needed it to help.  He needed the privacy.

He knew she didn’t do it on purpose, but it didn’t matter.  It didn’t matter, like it didn’t matter that he hadn’t  _ meant _ to see her in the shower, shivering like that.

“ _ Quit. _ ” He growled at himself and purposefully went about the unceremonious process of stripping.  The shower would help.

Eyes closed, he let the hot water run over him, down the back of his skull, pounding over his shoulders, down his back, attempting to command relaxation through taut muscles.  Bathing was a necessity, and that was how he normally approached it-- a thing to be done.  Not lingered over, not exactly  _ enjoyed. _  A thing to accomplish so he could move on to the  _ next _ thing.

Simply standing there was strange, and the strangeness increased his agitation.  So he bathed, scrubbing efficiently over his skin, telling himself it would stop the slow charcoal-burn itching and his restlessness.

That was when he noticed he wasn’t entirely soft.

The Marshal had been an adult man for… a long time.  He’d started  _ before _ most boys started acting like men.  He understood the way his body worked.  It could have just been a symptom of his irritation-- testosterone-fueled aggression triggering ancient instincts.  It could be as innocuous as the water temperature.  It could be  _ nothing at all. _  It wasn’t like he didn’t know how to tolerate an erection-- or in this case a partial one.

But he glared at it like it offended him.  It  _ did _ offend him, because it was betraying him.  His  _ body _ was betraying him.  He knew now why he’d been feeling irritable and itchy and hot all day.  Why he’d been thinking about Ariel naked, pleasuring herself, right here.

Why thinking about it  _ right now _ again made him twitch and stiffen just a little more.

“Shit.” He sighed.  He should probably deal with this.

It’d be fine.  A thing to do, like taking a shower.  Something that needed to be done so he could move on to the next thing and not worry about it anymore.

He didn’t have to linger on the coincidence-- or was it irony?-- of the situation.  He didn’t have to think about it.  He’d just do it.  Quick.  Efficient.  Get it done and move on.

He started to move his hand, then stopped and frowned.

Tried again.  Hesitated.  Stared at his calloused hand like it belonged to somebody else.

Cor realized it had been fifteen years since he’d  _ touched himself. _

He didn’t remember  _ how. _

Which was absurd, really, for a number of reasons:  He could remember clearly events that had happened  _ twenty-five  _ years ago, he could remember conversations word-for-word that far back, but he  _ couldn’t _ remember how to do this?  Further, it wasn’t a  _ complicated _ task.  Most of it worked  _ mechanically _ anyway.  Once he got started, hormones and friction and bloodflow would do the rest.

He just… couldn’t remember how to  _ start. _

Somehow, he couldn’t convince himself he could just grab by the shaft and start stroking.  Mechanical or not, he was convinced it didn’t work  _ that _ way.  Neither could he bring himself to just start searching his body out with his hand.  Like he was green.

Like he was a hot-blooded teenager, again, who didn’t know what the  _ fuck _ he was doing.

Frustrated, feeling the heat of something like  _ shame’s cousin _ at his throat and ears, he tried to remember what he’d  _ done with himself _ back then.  Instead, he found himself remembering that journey to Accordo with Regis and the others.  He remembered it often, usually late at night, wide awake in the dark, sweating dread and regret.

Usually not like  _ this. _  Not  _ about _ this.

Because they’d all been young and foolish, and travelling with the Prince had  _ perks _ that came with their celebrity and they’d all somehow convinced themselves they were  _ already _ war heroes on the way  _ to _ Accordo--much different from the return trip across Lucis.  Young and foolish.  It’d taken the four of them, all ganging up on him, to convince him to shirk his duty, but they  _ had _ managed to do it, as full of piss and voretooth venom as he had been back then.  They’d pushed him-- all but literally-- into the arms of the first woman in Lestallum at fifteen.  He didn’t remember much about her.  He mostly remembered awkward fumbling in the dark.  It’d gone easier the second time.

After that it just became a  _ routine _ .  They didn’t have to push him.  It was just a  _ thing _ he did every night they stayed in a town instead of in a tent, like all the other things he did.  Like a  _ list _ : check in, search the rooms, stow their things, check the rumors and tips, check the car, tour the town, watch for suspicious persons or Nif informants, find a place to eat, eat, watch the interested strangers while they schmoozed, fuck the pretty stranger giving him long looks over hooded-eyes into a boneless puddle in Weskham’s room (back then, the man had enjoyed taking his women in riskier places for a thrill), show them out, lock Weskham’s room, listen at Regis and Clarus’s room to see if they were finished fucking  _ their _ women-- though sometimes they  _ shared one _ , wait outside until they were done, go in, help them find their clothes, show  _ their _ women out, settle in and bed down, sleep.  Check, check, check.

Not that it hadn’t been a good time.  It’d been fun and he’d gotten rather good at it.  But he hadn’t thought much about it then-- it was just part of what he was doing.

He hadn’t thought much about  _ most things _ then.  The flaw of youth, he supposed, to be all impulse and energy.

Or maybe that was the flaw of  _ age? _  Thinking too much about too many things.

Either way, remembering all this had done nothing to improve his muscle-memory for dealing with his steadily growing erection-- because it’d done  _ everything _ to increase the tension boiling low in his guts.

This was stupid.  Frustrated, he grabbed hold of himself, encircling his shaft with calloused fingers, holding firmly.  He’d just  _ do it. _  Do  _ something. _

The knock at the door almost jumped him out of his skin.  His hand flew away from his body, hitting the wall of the shower, rapping his knuckles with a loud thud.

“Fuck.” He swore, loud and harsh, “ _ What? _ ”

There was a pause, “... Sorry, but… your phone is ringing.”

“Fuck.” He said again, softer, before turning off the water and moving aside the curtain to grab the towel and wrap it around his hips. “Thanks.  I’ll be right out.”

He crossed the living room in the towel, still soaked from head to toe, still mostly hard.  Still frustrated, hot and bothered, angry with himself for the entire situation.  For the wound to his dignity put there by the betrayal of his flesh to make this stupid demand of him.  To  _ need this. _

He ignored the woman leaning against the back of the bar counter that separated the kitchen from the living area, staring at him.  She hadn’t touched his phone, it was still in his blazer, still ringing insistently.  Grabbing it, he answered.

“Leonis.” The control was a relief.  He could still  _ work. _  He was still a gods-damned professional.

They were calling him in.  He didn’t know what he felt about it-- didn’t understand why he  _ should _ feel something about it.  It was the job.  His duty.

Hanging up, he put the phone back in his blazer and turned back  toward the bathroom--avoided looking at Ariel, “I’m going in.”

“I know,” She sighed, but he heard the wry smile in her voice.  Then she sobered. “Um, Cor…?”

“What?” He slowed but did not stop.  He didn’t want to linger...

“... You used to start at your belly, just above your navel…” She said it quietly, self-consciousness bleeding through her voice like an artery had been struck.

Cor  _ did _ stop then, turning to look at her, feeling his mouth going slack but unable to stop it.  She didn’t look at him, her arms folded over her chest, and she was flushed scarlet.

But she spoke  _ anyway, _ “... You… went down from there.  Slow and light, until you… got to… the base… you know?  You hooked your fingers then, to graze with your fingernails…”  Her voice was shaking, clearly the most embarrassed she’d been in awhile.

She was right.  The recollection hit him like a hammer-blow to the temple and he  _ knew _ she was right.

It turned his blood to ice.  All heat and desire drained out of him like he’d been cut off at the thighs.

_ How do you  _ **_know that?_ ** _ _ He wanted to demand.

_ How do you KNOW THAT?  _ Because he knew she could hear his thoughts, but even  _ he _ hadn’t remembered  _ that. _  Could it be that she could hear his  _ memories? _  Even ones he  _ didn’t remember? _

It was terrifying.  It was a level of  _ naked vulnerability _ he couldn’t cope with.  Like she was pulling back the layers of his flesh-- like she was vivisecting his life while he was awake and twitching in agony on a table.

The question, the  _ important question _ was on his lips, echoing relentlessly in his mind-- yet clearly she couldn’t hear it  _ now _ \--but he was on a desperate defensive, rocked back further on his heels than he’d been in  _ so many _ long years; exposed and vulnerable.  So he  _ didn’t _ ask the important question.  He lashed out in barely-concealed rage.

Like he was still full of piss and voretooth venom.  Like he was a hot-blooded teenager that didn’t know what the  _ fuck _ he was doing, “Oh yeah?  And  _ you? _  How’d  _ you _ start?”

She flinched and faced him, meeting his eyes, searching his face.  He wondered momentarily what she  _ saw  _ there, because he didn’t think it was as empty as he wanted it to be.  At least it confirmed she couldn’t  _ hear _ him  _ now. _  Whatever she found, and despite all her heart-rattling embarrassment, she answered him, raising her hand to place her fingers on the side of her neck, her thumb against the front of her throat.

“Here.” She said quietly, and so  _ gently, _ all her feelings in her dark eyes, lips starting to tremble, “I started here.”

Because she was still  _ Ariel _ \-- still so fucking generous, ready to bleed her heart out for him and  _ anybody. _ Still wanting nothing more than to be  _ helpful. _  She’d told him all that to  _ help him _ because she thought he  _ needed _ to remember to… take care of himself.

And he was still more or less her  _ interrogator. _  She answered his questions because he  _ asked _ them.  She’d tell him the step-by-step in excruciating, agonizingly graphic detail if he told her to.

Inexplicably, Cor found himself still bloodless cold, but hard and irritated again, aching.  Suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to bend her over the counter and  _ fuck her, _ hard and rough.  Like doing so could make him  _ right  _ inside.  She’d probably even  _ let him. _

It lasted only a fraction of a second, thinking about it.  Then he turned and went back to the bathroom, closing the door behind him so he could get dressed.

So he could go back to work.

**Author's Note:**

> Got questions? Want to talk about it? [Here's your mic! ](https://mtraki.tumblr.com/ask)


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